You might have read that I was asked to speak at The Jessica Fox Foundation Dinner-Dance. And, if you know that, you probably know that I am close with her mother, Rainy.
We spend every Wednesday together, cooking and talking and laughing. No matter how distracted I get, whether AJ just spilled a gallon of milk and I am cleaning it up, or something blows up, my ears are always turned up and tuned in to the stories she shares of Jess.
Two days before the dance, September 24th, Rainy wrote on my Facebook wall, “Looks like you are up Jamie girl.” I knew what she meant and I was praying I was wrong. “Oh, did a speaker fall through for Saturday?” “Yep, so it’s all you,” she replied. "Fuck," I thought.
I shared my hesitations with Rainy and she said, “I believe this was Jess’ doing. She wanted you to speak.” I don’t know who on God’s green earth could say no to that.
So I struggled and wrestled with what I could possibly say and share with this crowd who knew her so intimately. I never knew Jess while she was alive. I was speaking to 80 people, most of whom knew her well. They took her on cruises when she was depressed and made her ‘play’ with boys. They traveled the world with her, from Holland to Brazil. After she passed they spread her ashes all over the world; from Thailand to the Vatican. Who was I to speak to them about her?
My second reason for hesitating was that I in no way compare myself to Jess. I know Rainy does and that’s why she asked me to speak. And we do have some similarities. Jess was 36 when she died, I am 36 now. We were both teachers. We both ran marathons. We both LURVE Rainy. And we both struggled with sickness.
That being said, I have never faced the monster that is Triple Negative Breast Cancer. Jess ran the NYC Marathon for the second time, and AFTER the cancer metastasized to her lungs. She beat her previous personal record by 30 minutes. She was daring and strong and courageous and adventurous. The closest I have ever come to those things involved alcohol. I didn’t want them to think I was comparing myself to her. How arrogant would that be?
So I got up there and I shared with them those two big fears of mine. And then I explained that I made peace with talking to them when I realized how much they have been through with Jess-they fought beside her the entire way. They were beside her when it got ugly and the cancer spread to her brain. And many were there when she took her last breath. I thought maybe I could share with them what she has lent to me through Rainy and our days together. Maybe I could tell them how she speaks to me now, after her death, without ever knowing her-maybe in some way this would comfort them?
I once asked Rainy to tell me the one thing she wanted people to know about her daughter and the one thing she has learned as her mom. She said, “Jamie, my daughter was no saint. But I watched her fight like hell to live her life. She fought fearlessly. She had blood and guts written on her wrist. If she saw me wasting my life after she fought so hard to live hers, without fear, she would kick my ass.”
This is what Jess gave me. I wasn’t afraid of MS until my doctor brought up the wheelchair possibility and said that could be a possibility within three months. All of a sudden I was panic-stricken. I went from moments of heightened bravado to profound panic. I rested on my faith to straighten these emotions out to a more even, quiet type of acceptance. God answered with Rainy. God answered with Jess.
Many people can be sad and weep at the death of anyone, whether they knew this person or not, because it reminds them of their own mortality. Jess was special because she was able to overcome this—the story of her death didn’t make me fear for my own life, it dared me to live. WWJD. What would Jess do if faced with life in a wheelchair? She would gladly take it, and she would put a pink wig on it like she did when she lost her hair, she would enter the NYC Marathon wheelchair division, and she would kick ass in that wheelchair.
I was looking at Jess’ bucket list the other day. The first thing that stood out was “Buy leather pants.” It was checked off. Whoa. I could never wear leather pants. I mean maybe I could in 1995? Pleather pants may have been a part of my past. But now? Leather? Then I saw the item underneath. WEAR LEATHER PANTS. It wasn’t checked off. Dag. This was Jess daring me to take that on. I need to wear leather pants and help her complete this list of hers. After sharing all of this, I handed out her bucket list and dared her friends and her family, her legacy, to complete this list of hers. I warned them that someone in the audience would have to get arrested.
The night was wild and fun. A total success. Item number 63: Get arrested. Check.
